


you're mine, you

by hurryup, nea_writes



Series: je ne regrette rien [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8749906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurryup/pseuds/hurryup, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nea_writes/pseuds/nea_writes
Summary: Allen was still just barely struggling to blink the scene into focus when he heard the sound of a voice carrying over the afternoon breeze, low and soft and clear as day."Remember when you asked me to marry you?"There, kneeling in the dirt and between the flowers, was Kanda.





	

At this hour the warehouse grew chilled, enough that most of their team refrained from staying over. They left quietly, one by one until the building grew dark and lonely, waiting for a new day. Nonetheless, most of their work stayed behind for convenience's sake, and Allen often lost track of the hour pouring over the multitude of files Link accumulated. He did a great job, Allen couldn't ask for more, really, but _God_ if he didn't write enough to fill a library.

Allen cracked a smile, leafing through the pages carelessly, admiring the pristine quality of Link's handwriting with an air of faint amusement. Bit of a stick in the mud, that one, really, but perhaps it was his fastidious nature that made him such an effective Point Man in the first place.

He shut one file and pinched his nose, sighing. A thin breeze whistled through the air, echoing against the high ceilings and vast walls and with a shiver Allen blinked his eyes open, focusing on the growing darkness surrounding his workspace. A glance at his watch was useless— damned thing never worked anyways— but it felt late enough that he probably shouldn't still be there.

With a sigh he stood from Link's desk and stretched, carelessly setting the file back on top of another stack. _That_ would aggravate Link, Allen thought with a chuckle, but most things Allen did served to annoy Link anyways. A good life to lead.

He gathered his jacket and gloves from the back of his chair, turning off the lamp in the same motion. The room was overtaken by darkness, illuminated only by the clarity of moonlight.

Moving slowly and deliberately so as to avoid toppling any stray equipment, Allen made his way through the room, following that steady stream of moonlight as he wound his scarf about his neck. Just as he was pulling his gloves on, he stopped, staring just off to the left. There, laying draped across the cot with an IV attached to his wrist, was Kanda, dead asleep, his long hair loose and fanning around him, falling off the sides.

In the darkness, his hair looked something like still water at night, reflecting the moon in silvers and whites. Allen stalled, fingers freezing where they'd been busy tugging the gloves from his pockets and onto his hands.

Despite Kanda's long and illustrious career as an Extractor, Allen had never known him to share a dream of his own with any other person. Even more rare was to see him sleep. It seemed he avoided it, if he could help it. Like he was afraid of dreams. In the daylight, when Kanda was awake and always glaring down at Allen, eyes sharp and dark, it seemed a ridiculous notion.

But now, with the moonlight falling over him and washing his face soft, brows relaxed and breathing steady, Allen saw something inexplicably and uncharacteristically gentle, breakable. Like this, Kanda seemed human and real and liable to fall to fears.

He drifted closer, eyes tracing the fall of Kanda's hair down his arm, his wrist, his lax hand, to the PASIV softly working. It was the only source of artificial light, and under the moonlight it fell dim. Kanda's lashes were dark against his cheeks, and like this, asleep and unaware, he seemed so much younger.

He could only imagine at what dreams Kanda had constructed for himself.

Well. His eyes flickered towards the PASIV, at first guilty, and then with open curiosity. He could do _more_ than imagine— if he wanted.

He hesitated, watching him dream.

It made sense, in a way, that Kanda would choose to conduct work related to their current contract at night, when the warehouse was empty and free of Lavi's meddling, or Link's near-constant needling, or Lena's incessant curiosity. Allen found himself wandering towards the PASIV, running one hand over the familiar cold, metallic exterior of the hardware itself.

Kanda was slightly, kind of, sort of brilliant when it came to Extraction, though Allen would die before admitting it to his face. He was certainly blessed with more experience working with dream-sharing technology than anyone Allen had ever met— and the chance to see him in action was a rare one.

All the more reason it made for an impossible temptation.

Allen lifted and carried a chair over, settling it beside Kanda and the PASIV. The seat was chilled from the night air, and when he pulled the wire from the machine it was cold and slick under his fingertips. He glanced at Kanda one last time, quiet and still, before he pricked himself with the cool edge of the needle with an ease that came only through practice.

There was the shock of the cold that lasted only a moment. Allen's eyes flickered shut, anchoring himself with the sensation of the hard back of the chair pressing against him, and then—

He was standing in an elevator.

It was an industrial type, built for labor and constant use. The metal grid was thick and unkind with sharp edges, rusted all over. The floor was a pitiful copper imitation diamond plate, and the dial call on the side was missing several buttons, some punched in violently. Allen had barely moved to press a random working number when the lift trembled and shifted. His gut twisted at the sudden descent and there was the flickering of old light bulbs bursting on and falling quiet as the numbers lit up overhead. From the ground floor, down down down, until Allen's stomach began to twist in knots.

On the seventh level it stopped, shaking as if in fear. A loud buzzer sounded and Allen jerked up to spot a red light encaged in hard metal blinking on and then off as the buzzing ended, signaling his arrival. Licking his dry lips, Allen wrapped his fingers around the unforgiving metal, wincing as rust flaked off and coated his hands. He pulled hard and the gate slowly ceded in loud and tired cranks of metal.

A long concrete hall greeted him, the distant sound of dripping water echoing back to Allen. A cold draft swept past and fluttered his bangs, and the hall stretched on for so long it receded into darkness.

This... was not what he had expected. Granted, he hadn't thought there'd be fields of daisies, but all the same a morbid basement that smelled of mildew and dank undisturbed air hadn't been on the list either.

Allen stepped past the threshold, moving down through the hall with a tentative curiosity. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the darkness, the sound amplified by either the silence or the sinister atmosphere of the dream itself.

Where was Kanda? What did this have to do with their contract? Allen racked his brains for any possible connection between Link's notes on the current target of their corporate espionage and this dark, desolate place, and came up short. Was this a mistake? Or was there some larger picture at work that Allen had thus far failed to grasp?

There was the sound of a laugh, reverberating down and through the hall. Allen tensed, coming to a slow halt.

_A projection?_

Another laugh, deliriously high and bright, it's pitch mounting dangerously close to something like hysteria. It seemed to beckon him forwards.

Allen advanced down the hallway, following the source of the sound until he came to the first corner, heading down all the way into a wide, dim open room.

The ceiling curved high into a dome and the room stretched on. Lying in rows upon rows were beds, bulky machines in between them in some unerring pattern. Allen could not count the sheer number of beds in just a glance, and in the darkness the further they grew from him the more like hulking monsters they seemed.

Upon further inspection, it was unmistakable; they were connected through a PASIV, or some early variation of it. There was no mistaking the essential make of it, the LED display and atomized timer, the winding IV lines drawing from the center, the infusion trigger pulsating at the center in preparation of sending its next passenger into some fantasy of their own creation.

Echoing in the cavernous walls was that childish laughter, and a shadow in the distance moved. One, two, in between the beds and machines, darting around. An unmistakable _shh!_

Allen moved through the maze of desolate hospital beds and rusted machines, following the shadows. Everything reeked of disuse, mold, and iron. The beds were alarmingly bare, and the PASIV machines strangely huge and bulky, with too many bolts and screws than seemed necessary.

Who the hell would dream up a maze full of old, obsolete PASIV machines?

 _Unless_ , Allen realized, with a sinking sensation in his stomach, _this wasn’t a maze_ _—_ _but rather, a memory._

The shadows moved further, giggling still with that hint of hysteria at the end, as if the danger of being caught left them high on adrenaline and fear, and even though Allen walked normally and they ran he never lost track of them. They were the only humans in this maze of abandoned dreams.

At the end was a gaping doorway, looming large and empty, and the shadows of children darted in, tiny feet clambering down echoing stairs. Afraid to lose sight of them, Allen hurried his steps until he reached the stairwell. It went both up and down, but the laughter drifted from below, and so he stepped onto the rickety metal, steps like the diamond plated elevator’s.

The lower he went, the brighter it grew, a relief. He never caught sight of the children again but he could still hear them laughing blissfully.

He must have gone down three levels before he finally reached the bottom. There was only a single door, outlined in bright light from beyond. Nervously, Allen reached for the doorknob, hissing reflexively at the touch. It was ice cold. He couldn’t hear the children’s laughter, anymore, but there was no where else they could have gone.

He twisted the knob and pushed the door open onto a field of grass and bright sunlight.

He squinted, at first blinded by the sudden transition from darkness into full sunlight, and lifted a hand to shield himself from the blinding glare. He was still just barely struggling to blink the scene into focus when he heard the sound of a voice carrying over the afternoon breeze, low and soft and clear as day.

"Remember when you asked me to marry you?"

There, kneeling in the dirt and between the flowers, was Kanda.

Beside him sat a man Allen didn’t recognize, but the words had come from him in a voice so gentle it hurt Allen to hear it.

The words drifted on the wind across the plain, and from this distance Allen could barely see Kanda nod slowly. Allen had never seen Kanda this way, eyes haunted and dark, but there was something... something there...

" _Alma_ ," Kanda said, voice low and broken. There it was again, that undercurrent of raw emotion— and if there was a word for it, the agonized longing in Kanda's eyes, Allen did not know it. Didn't want to know. He stared up at Alma, transfixed, and Alma reached out to ghost one pale hand across Kanda's cheek.

"You were so embarrassed," Alma continued, lips curving and eyes warm like sunlight. "Took you an hour just to work up the courage."

Kanda looked down at his lap, hands obscured by the flowers gently waving. Not even a moment passed before he was looking up again, any trace of embarrassment gone and eyes clear and dark, expression soft like Allen had never seen before.

"Do you remember what you asked me?"

Kanda's voice was dry as dust— so quiet, it was nearly inaudible. "To stay by my side. Always."

Alma brushed the pad of his thumb across Kanda's cheekbone. "We can still be that way, Yuu. Side by side, together. Forever."

Allen stood rooted to the spot, watched Kanda kneeling, wide-eyed, mouth soft under Alma's teasing touches, eyes fluttering shut as fingertips drifted across his cheekbones, brow, to cup his cheek.

Undeniably tender touches between lovers. Affection, love, adoration - things Allen was not supposed to see. No one was supposed to see.

When Alma's light eyes flitted over Kanda's shoulder to meet Allen's, he was struck with the sudden knowledge of what that love could be like. That deep encompassing gaze, as if all that mattered in the world was who Alma saw in that moment.

The moment passed as warmth was chased away and cold cruel anger settled in. "Who are you?"

Kanda's back stiffened as if struck by lightning, and Allen winced, taking a step back.

He whirled around and gone were the warm loving eyes and tender seeking hands. He followed Alma's line of vision, dark eyes widening in shock as he saw Allen standing there, an unwelcome third party among the grass, the flowers, and all that blue sky.

He was an intruder here, and he couldn’t tell what was worse— that he had witnessed Kanda’s happiness, or that he had witnessed his loss.

It took only a moment for a wall to come down over Kanda's expression, shutting out the love and longing that had defined those delicate features only a moment ago.

He rose to his feet quickly as though he’d been yanked up by an invisible string, leaving Alma kneeling in the grass, eyes still fixed on Allen with a cold malice.

He strode towards Allen with angry steps and Allen was so shocked he didn’t have the presence of mind to actually back away. He was grabbed by the shirt collar and pulled sharply up onto his toes as Kanda glared down at him with a wrath Allen had never seen before.

“You!” Kanda seethed, shaking Allen minutely. His shoulders, too, were shaking, and Allen was overcome with an overwhelming sense of empathy. “What are you _doing here?”_

Before Allen could respond, Alma spoke up, voice cutting through the wind as if he were right next to them. “Who is he, Yuu?”

_Yuu, Yuu, is this why we can’t say his name?_

“Nobody,” Kanda said, glaring at Allen as if to demand he even attempt to deny it. “A nosy little shit who doesn’t belong here.”

“He has to be somebody,” Alma said with something like humor in his voice, but Allen could see his eyes were dead and cold, and the clash sent fear skittering down his spine, because there was something… almost _insane._

“He has to be somebody,” Alma said again, standing slowly and walking towards them, hands lowering to drift over the tops of petals. The wind tugged at his hair, and he was smiling, but everything was so wrong and cold and it scared him. Allen struggled in Kanda’s grip to get away but Kanda held on fiercely, even shaking Allen again.

“Let me go!” Allen demanded.

“Somebody,” Alma said. “Somebody— because who would you let close to you like this, Yuu?”

“Who _is he,_ Yuu?” Alma said, soft, serene, as if nothing were wrong, but everything was and Allen began to tremble. He was never meant to be here, never meant to see this, to know about him. “Tell me, Yuu, is this your new replacement for me?”

“ _No_ ,” Kanda said, sounding desperate, grip slackening on the front of Allen’s shirt, voice raw, “No, I could _never_ _—_ ”

Allen used the opportunity to wrestle free from Kanda’s grasp, stumbling back gracelessly, feeling blindly for the cold metal door of the staircase. All he found were the swaying tops of upturned flowers and he glanced back in a panic. Far, far away was the door in the distance, almost lost in the field of flowers. So far away that even if he ran now they still could catch him.

“You also said we’d be together forever, Yuu, but look at us now.” Alma looked down at his hands, fingers smudged with dirt, and when he looked back up his lips trembled and his eyes were shining with tears. “ _Forever_ , you said. I… I really believed… when you said forever…”

“Alma,” Kanda pleaded, broken and quiet and—  full of _love_. Everything, every look, every action, every word, it bled Kanda’s love for Alma. A broken, tired, and lost love.

“Forever… must not have meant the same thing to you like it did to me. If it did…. If it did!” Alma’s tearful eyes darted towards Allen, and rage bloomed. _“He_ wouldn’t be here! _I_ wouldn’t be stuck _here!”_

“You know what it meant to me, Alma, what it _still_ means—”

“And yet you won’t even stay here with me! You promised, you promised me forever, Yuu.”

“I wanted to give you forever, Alma.”

“But you didn’t,” Alma said cruelly, and the words hurt. Kanda winced and shook his head slowly. Alma stepped forward, another, one more, until he stood just before Kanda. His raised his hands and grasped Kanda’s shirt, brought him closer until not even a breath separated them.

Allen wanted to look away out of shame, but the moment was so fiercely intimate that he remained rooted, watching the sliver of light outline their profiles.

“You didn’t,” Alma said, “and you left me here alone instead.”

His hands moved up, slowly, almost lovingly, to wrap around Kanda’s neck.

It was only when he saw the skin around Alma’s fingers turn white from the pressure that reality struck Allen and he ran forward, ripping Alma’s hands away. His skin was cold, clammy and unreal, and it burned to touch. Kanda choked on a breath and bent over, breathing harshly.

“What’s _wrong_ with you!” Allen demanded, hovering over Kanda. He knew it didn’t matter, that it wouldn’t make a difference. Alma didn’t really exist here, in this moment, but that Kanda would stand there, let Alma slowly kill him painfully...

This seemed to snap Kanda out of his daze. He blinked, then staggered upright, taking in a long, shuddering breath as his eyes focused on Alma, whose expression was contorted with both fury and pain.

He stepped towards Alma, drew nearer, and Alma had the briefest smile on his face before Kanda drew a knife. In one smooth motion he slid the blade across Alma’s neck. Allen had never seen someone’s throat slit before, and the skin parted like blossoming petals of red, a thin seamless line before blood spilled over and down his chest.

His heart fell still and the world silent as Kanda turned around, met Allen’s eyes, and then stabbed Allen cleanly in the chest, digging and pushing as Allen resisted. Feebly, he brought his hands up to rest on Kanda’s arms, and he knew, knew what Kanda was trying to do, it was just a dream, he just needed to—

Allen jerked awake in his chair, nearly lancing straight out of it and onto the floor, clutching at his chest and gasping for breath. Though there was no blood beneath his hands, the phantom sensation of the cold knife sliding into his chest had him heaving and shaking. He groped at his arm for the IV, yanking it out in one solid tug.

Kanda rose from his seat with a wretched gasp, chest heaving and eyes wide. He scrambled from the chair and landed on his knees with a thud, bone meeting cement cruelly. Like Allen, he scrambled for the wire, wrenching it from his wrist and bringing his hands to his eyes as he forcefully breathed.

They kneeled there in the moonlight, simply regaining their peace of mind. For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but the steady rise and fall of their breaths, the both of them unable to acknowledge that which they had both shared, yet equally unable to forget it.

Alma was burned into Allen’s memory, lovely and smiling against a backdrop of endless flowers. Angry and brokenhearted. Jealous and insane. The glint of a ring on his finger, the vestigial memory of an old but never-forgotten promise. _Alma, Alma, Alma, who are you? What happened to you?_

_Stay by my side, always._

_Forever, side by side._

Allen caught his breath first, and he struggled to lift himself back into his chair, hands trembling. “What was that?” He asked quietly, resting his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his palms, staring blankly at the dark concrete. All he could see was Alma, over and over.

“My husband,” Kanda said, after a beat. His voice had returned to an approximation of its normal tone, cool and curt despite the undercurrent of pain that ran just beneath it. He rose to his feet, lifting one hand to his hair, perhaps only realizing now that he’d taken it down before putting himself under.

Allen jerked up, and though it was something he’d already known, been the first thing he _had_ learned, it still shocked him to hear it. Under the cold clarity of moonlight, Kanda looked weary, worn. As if the dream had taken from him and given nothing in return but an aching heart.

“What?” Allen breathed.

Kanda gave a pathetic glare, but the ache was too strong. “A… He was my husband.”  
  
_Was._

_‘You didn’t, and you left me here alone instead.’_

“What happened?” Allen asked quietly. Kanda’s husband… someone he loved… someone he still loved. How could that love turn into such anger, such madness?

“He died.”

Allen struggled to his feet, his throat closing up. “So— what, now you... just keep his memory locked up in your dreams?”

“Locked up?” Kanda barked a hollow laugh. “I couldn’t keep him out if I fucking _tried_.”

He looked up at Allen then, and in the chilled moonlight his skin was pale and his eyes endlessly dark. There, Allen could see, was the love inside Kanda crumbled, charred and broken and burned from the hate and guilt eating him alive.

Abruptly he stood and Allen jerked back in surprise. He grabbed his coat and bag from beside his chair and shoved past Allen. Just as he left the light of the moon streaming in from the window he stopped, shoulders tense and back ramrod straight.

“I’m… you shouldn’t have seen that,” he said, words muted and low, lost in the darkness. The closest to an apology Kanda Yuu ever got.

By the time Allen founds the words to say, Kanda was gone, bare armed and into the chill of night, as if in punishment.

Allen moved over and turned the machine off, watched as the light died, and thought of the way Alma’s eyes, too, had dimmed.

**Author's Note:**

> another brilliant, brilliant collab with the inestimable talents of nea_writes, done over one agonizing (read: beautiful) night. 
> 
> nea-writes @ tumblr  
> hurryupfic @ tumblr


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